


It takes two to make a country

by Bleach_ed_Na_tsu



Series: Hetalia Crack [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23230840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu/pseuds/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu
Summary: America noticed that Canada looked very much like both Britain's and France's child, but what about him? After all, it takes two to make a country. One-shot I came up with to pass the time. No real pairing.
Series: Hetalia Crack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670254
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	It takes two to make a country

It was a normal afternoon. America had once again barged into his brother's –rather large homey- house and demanded a stack of pancakes, tried to get him to leave the commonwealth, and hit him multiple times in the face with a baseball when they tried to play catch.

" _This is why I play hockey."_ Canada moaned as he nursed a growing bruise on his left cheek.

When the game of 'abuse Matthew as much as possible' had finished Alfred had pulled out the newest war game from America and he and Matthew were sitting in the living room playing rather lazily.

Alfred honestly didn't mean to hurt his little brother, it was just so easy, and his brother never really complained. He looked over and winced a little on the purple mark marring his brother's otherwise flawless face. That's when it hit him.

His brothers skin was flawless- pale like an Englishman's, his nose aristocratic, his jaw just sharp enough to be regal, and his hair was long and soft like woven gold. His eyes were a hue margining on purple and his voice held that strange twang that was distinctly not French but distinctively not English either. Matthew- Canada- was France's son without a doubt- with that subtle hint of the Nordic history he had, but there were those subtle English traits too, those little things that couldn't be overlooked and proved him to be England's son too.

There is where the problem lied. Canada was a rare case- America knew that- not many colonies looked like their mother nations, look at Seychelles and it was pretty obvious. But America couldn't deny that he did look like England. He had the hair, the attitude, the stubborn attitude, and when he was really angry the pirate tongue- whoops, he meant sailor.

But didn't it take two 'parents' to make a child?

"Hey Mattie?" the American asked as he paused the game. As if he'd give the master controller to Mattie, he'd just wimp out and pause the game right before he was going to die.

"What's up Al?"  
"You call France _papa_ right?" Alfred asked, his eyebrows were set in confusions, a look of true thinking that only Matthew was really privy to.

"Well yes, when I was younger." Now Matthew was confused. When they were younger Alfred was there when Matthew cried over being traded for sugar plantations, cussing his _papa_ in his childish way.

"And Britain is our father right?"

Now Matthew was thoroughly confused and a little embarrassed too. England would deny it, but the fact Matthew was in existence proved more than anything that _something_ had to have happened between France and Britain for him to have truly be personified.

"Well... yes he is our father in a way."

Matthew was really unsure how to answer; nations didn't really have 'blood relations' other than cases like the Italy brothers who were two parts of the same country. This was the case as countries could have _certain_ relations (Oh god he started blushing at even the thought) with other countries that were 'big brothers' or 'fathers' at one point in history without any _unwanted_ repercussions occurring. " _The proof is looking at Sealand..."_ though Canada supposed that wasn't exactly an unwanted repercussion.

"Then...who is my other parent?" Alfred asked looking at his brother who has suddenly taken on a very curious expression.

"Your..." now that stumped the Canadian representative. If it theoretically took two nations to make a personification, in the way it took a man and a woman to make a baby, then who was the other half of America? "I don't really know. Maybe asking Arthur would be best eh?" the Canadian suggested.

"Yo man that's right. Iggy would know!" the American jumped from the couch- almost knocking the coffee table over in his enthusiasm. "You're awesome Canadia. Hero out yo!"

Alfred arrived at the conference room quickly, there world conference was being held in Britain, so finding the nation personification wasnt' difficult. He was in the conference room drawing on the blackboard, what he was writing didn't really concern America, considering it would be all wiped off when _he_ took over the conference.

"Yo, Britain." He called out to the blonde haired nation at the front.

"What the bloody hell do you want America." The Brit sighed. He put the chalk down in favour of facing the obnoxious country.

"I have a question."  
"Well hurry it up; I was in the middle of work."

"Well, since you and France are Mattie's parents-"  
"That _frog_ and I are no such thing!" the Brit spluttered indignantly as a red hue tinted his cheeks ever so slightly.

"Whatever dude." The American relied with a very tired expression. "Anyway I was wondering. Who'd you shag to make me?"

Once realisation dawned a sudden, crimson explosion erupted on Arthur's face. The reaction caused the younger nation to blink in surprise, he wondered mutely if his other 'father' was really such a bad – or potentially good- country.

France had passed the two arguing countries just as England so elegantly turned a _*cough*_ sexy _*cough*_ (to France) shade of red. Fairly amused he had listened in and his face fell when he realised he hadn't just walked into some lovely _naughty_ -talk between his rival Angleterre and Amérique. Disappointed with the lack of blackmail he walked up to the confused _-"Aw isn't that cute, l'Am_ _é_ _rique has no clue"_ and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Mon Cher, your ot'er papa est Spain."

America's eyes widened and Britain paled.

Spluttering helplessly at the indignation Britain coughed out a reply. "Bloody frog! How in bloody blazed did you find out?"

"Hohoho. Angleterre, Espagne est mon ami. Of course I know of your little fling way back when." The French man looked towards the clock and gasped. "Oh my. Well my darlings, the fabulous me 'as to leave you now." With an air kiss and a wink the French man practically danced out of the room.

"Dude, Britain... Spain is my dad?" the American sighed heavily with a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. "I thought you had better taste in men than that. Oh well, I need to go tell Mattie, and maybe I'll go see my other old man... Hero out dude."

Britain couldn't even object or catch his once colony because he was already out the door and Arthur could hear the distinctive roar of that infernal motorcycle the nation refused to leave at home.

"One stupid drunken fling and I'm still paying for it." the Brit mumbled as he made his way home. Maybe a glass of scotch would sooth the migraine that was sure to follow.


End file.
